Behind the curtains
by Choco-menta
Summary: In front of the stage, the audience praises me. And I, put on my mask, and play the parody of my lives. Then, who are you? All the big lies of History began with the famous "once upon a time..."
1. Prologue

**BEHIND THE CURTAINS**

**By: **

**Choco Menta & Charlotte87**

**~Translation~**

**Estela.A & Silver Orchidz**

* * *

_In front of the stage, the audience praises me. And I, put on my mask, and play the parody of my lives._

_So, who are you? All the big lies of History began with the famous "once upon a time..."_

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

**"The Demons"**

_The curtains open. Two figures stand in the spotlight in the middle of the dark stage. It is a man and a woman, straight and serious in front of the audience. Their pale faces, deep stares, closed lips. The man, holding a little notebook in his right hand, takes a step forward. As he starts reading, his voice sounds strong but gentle around the place:_

"What is Theater? It is a collaborative form of fine art that uses live performers to present the experience of a real or imagined event before a live audience in a specific place. The performers may communicate this experience to the audience through combinations of gesture, speech, song, music or dance creating a bond with the audience."

_The young man looks up from his script but remains silent, while the forum expects him to continue. Nevertheless, his partner takes a step forward, looking at her own script, and says:_

"Thespis is considered the earliest recorded actor. Being a winner of the first theatrical contest held at Athens, Thespis presented an actor who speaks (rather than sings) and impersonates a character and a choir. It is said that Solon left a play very shocked and asked the actor-author how he could lie so shamelessly." _The young woman stops and looks up to the dark, empty space, her eyes emotionless, and repeats the same words..._ "Lie... So shamelessly... Lie... So shamelessly. Lie. Lie... LIE."

_Her partner is confused. When he finally realizes she is not saying anything else, he looks at his script again. After clearing his throat, seeming uncomfortable, he starts again:_

"It was the first evidence of the bad reputation the drama had around, especially around the actor and actress. Remember that the Greek word 'hypocrites' used to mean 'interpreter' before its actual meaning, hypocrite. Shortly after Thespis, Aeschylus added the second actor, and Sophocles introduced the third. That's when drama evolved, and tragedy emerged."

_His partner continues:_

"According to the classic definition, drama is a specific mode of fiction performed by actors on a stage before an audience. There's a wrong trend towards tragic elements, like considering the so-called 'tragic end' an expression of ´tragedy'."

_The tension in the air is evident. The public does not emit a sound; the man remains rigid in the same position, his eyes alternating between his script and the girl. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket, wipes sweat from his forehead and continues, his voice sounding forced:_

"And, if we jump to Eastern societies, like the Japanese, we must mention the 'Nō', which emerged in the 15th century". _Sakura seems to ignore her partner's explanations and walks calmly backstage. _"Later, from that gender the 'Kabuki' arose, the most popular, and based primarily on the ability of the performers..." _From the shadows, the woman's silhouette shows, but this time a white mask covers her face. The man struggles to finish his lines..._ "and the appealing of the senses rather than the mind." _Her mask becomes clearer as she approaches the spotlight: it has a big black smile and a very odd glaze of joy in the eyes._

_A quiet murmur starts. Sakura clears her throat, and without hesitation, acclaims:_

"Among the Greeks and Romans, the masks were like helmets. They covered the entire head, and in addition to facial features, they had hair, ears and beard. The first ones to use them in plays were the Greeks, so that the actors may physically resemble the character they represented."

_Again, silence takes over the place. It seems to make sense, but the young woman makes a move and leaves everybody astonished. She throws the script to the floor rapidly in an authentic display of feminine rage, making all who are present sit at the edge of their seats._

"And I could cry with this smile, right? I could jump, run, go anywhere. I could tell all the lies you would want to hear! And it wouldn't be a tragedy," _she speaks while walking from one corner to the other,_ "because everything here is a lie. And this place... Just doesn't exist." _Silence, her face is down but the mask is still up and throwing words and words._ "It's a big lie... Everything is a hoax. But I can be like anybody and make you cry, furious, and laugh too because I was taught to do so! They taught me to Lie, like everything that exists and Theater! Yes, ladies and gentleman! Everything is a damn lie!"

_The man looks at her with endless surprise, frowns and looks away. His fist squeezes, crushes and finally drops the script. The impact breaks the silence like thunder, the woman bends a little, fearful, to see his face._

_But there are no screams, no reproach. Instead, he raises his head, laughing somberly. He unexpectedly approaches his partner and offers her one of his hands, closing the other over his chest, and opens his mouth. The audience does not dare to breathe._

"It's a parody of reality. I create my existence. I create my smiles, my cries, my accomplishments, until I get bored of them and others will come. I believe you, I love you, I hate you, I want you and I kill you, but this mad mind can bring you back to life too. The blood disappears out of these hands, caressing your face. These cold lips kiss your forehead, just in front of the doors of Hell." _Suddenly, her expression changes to complete loss._ "And I'm terrified. Yes, I withdraw, I become a coward, and want to climb so high so I can breathe... I run away as fast as I can, and the sunlight blinds me, burning my eyes, it sets them on fire. The pain stabs me, the tears run down my face, and I believe I'm healed... "

_The white mask falls to the floor, revealing the trouble in her bright eyes. Her lips move slightly, but no sound comes out. Her hand holding desperately to the hand he offers._

"But I do not exist. I do not go, come, or feel. I am not here, neither you, and that love is called Vacuum. It is called Mutism. It is called Haste, Madness. You do not create yourself, I create you with every glance I give you, with eyes that do not see, with my hands cut after trying to reach the silence to kill it. No, everything is a hoax. And I am not here, I am not speaking. I am not seeing. I am not, Syaoran. I am not by your side. I am a ghost, just like you, in the middle of this huge lie we all know as... Love"

_The man looks at her deeply, silencing the last words in his mouth._

_And the curtains close._

* * *

**Authors' notes**

* * *

Well, well ... what do you think? Choco-chan talking this time, not only in my name, also in Charlotte's. For those who have reached these notes, after such a paranoid prologue, congratulations! Actually, we finished writing it after several hours, and we liked how it was so much that we could not wait for you to read it.

But do not panic: while we thought that this story is rather darker, more mature and schizophrenic (?) than others we may have done, the other chapters will be like this prologue. The fic will be written from the Sakura and Syaoran's POV, my friend Charlotte is responsible for Sakura's, I'm responsible for Syaoran's, as we have done here (though the narrator's divided up between us two). It will be much easier to follow and more clear, do not be afraid of that. And besides, we promise many scenes of SS and lemons, and... Well, a twisted plot as we tend to do.

The characters, the secrets, stories will be revealed. But stay with the detail of the prologue. It reveals a lot, both of Sakura and Syaoran.

Another point to clarify is that this story is NOT finished, so we will be writing on the fly. We will try to update as soon as possible, but be understanding (and we know you are).

And as a special little favour ... leave many long and juicy reviews, to see what you think.

Goodbye to you,

Charlotte_87 and Choco-chan.

* * *

**Translators' notes**

* * *

Hi!

Here **Estela.A** (: We're so happy to finally have the prologue for you! It took us a while. This 'project' started some weeks ago, but after a break –I had final exams!– it's ready. I'm so happy working with chocomenta and silver orchidz, but I would be even happier if you like our job. Thanks for reading!

**Silver orchidz**: Lol, I can't remember what I wanted to say other than I'm working with two wonderful people on this translation and hope that readers enjoy the fic!


	2. Act I: Rain

**BEHIND THE CURTAINS**

—**PART ONE**—

(Prologue, Act I to VI)

by

**Charlotte **& **Chocolate con Menta**

~Translation~

**Estela.A **&** Silver Orchidz**

* * *

**ACT I**

"**Rain"**

**Scene I**

**-Syaoran-**

My shoes, covered in mud after walking in the rain, were the living and indubitable proof that life was not always fair.

Life, I remembered as I passed through the dark hall of the theater, was something that treated only a few people nicely.

And, of course, I was not one of them.

I arrived at the stage with the feeling of something thick, icy and destructive gnawing at me from the inside. That every strange thought, dreamlike daze, heavy scream ran to rot in my brain. The vision of the dark and bleak stage, the lights off, the dirty and blurred windows, made chills run down my back...

Just like every afternoon.

Without thinking, I dropped my backpack and jacket to the side of the chair in front of the stage and sat. I took out the little notebook I always carried with me from my pocket and opened it in the middle to find the first blank page after countless scribbles and ramblings.

"Let's see," I murmured, taking a pen into my mouth and looked at the roof like it had all the answers. But the only response was my own echo. "What shall I do with you, Hitori...?"

"Syaoran?" From the deepest corner of the old place, Tomoyo's voice cut off my thoughts. "Where are you?"

"Where do you think?"

Leaving my play unfinished, I turned and waited for her. She soon appeared at the threshold in her huge, wet coat and her long black hair around her shoulders. The grimace on her face showed she wasn't in a good mood today.

"It's raining!" she complained, staring angrily at the umbrella she forgot yesterday. "It was only cloudy when I left home, and now look at me." In a very puerile manner, she opened her arms and covered the floor with water. "I'm wet!"

She was. She removed her heavy clothing, exposing her slender figure.

"Tomoyo," I called.

"Yeah?"

For a moment, I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to comment on how excessively thin she seemed. But then I remembered: it was never a good idea. Whenever I made a comment about it, she gave an evasive answer or smiled politely and tried to change the topic.

Of all the people I've known, Tomoyo was the least likely person to share her problems.

"Did I give you that sweater?"

Like a magic trick, her grimace disappeared. Her usual grin and cute glow in her eyes surfaced.

"Yes," she said, dazed. "It's been really cold lately. And it brings me good memories."

My only answer was half a smile.

The pink turtle neck sweater was so old; the color was almost completely faded. Tomoyo wore it for years and it was the first time she used it in a while. Like a cloudy memory, images appeared of us when we were teenagers and used to cuddle backstage.

If I closed my eyes, I was sure I could smell her perfume, like I had always liked to do, impregnated in the wool...

"So..." Again, her sweet voice cut through my thoughts like scissors. "How's your new script going?"

Her question was a clear call to my frustration.

"Fatal," I groaned, crossing my arms and turning my back to Tomoyo. "The ideas are there, but there's been no way I could concentrate lately. I spend the nights up, surrounded by tons of paper and stories in my mind, but I can't get anything. I'm completely blocked. And, what's more," I added angrier, "it's not a great inspiration to have louts as a cast, you know?"

I heard her footsteps behind me and the next thing I felt were her arms around me. Her cheek caressed mine, trying to calm the maniacal and enraged person I was.

"I know some of them have been getting on your nerves lately," she said softly in my ear, "but you have to understand that they're just starting."

"I understand that, but..."

"No." Her tone made me feel like a scolded child. "Actually, you don't understand. Stop getting stressed, Syaoran. You haven't been doing anything else but getting stressed and now look at you," She jumped in front of me with her hands on her hips undeniably reprimanding me. "You have huge dark circles."

"Like the one on your right eye?"

That was a low blow. And I didn't need to see her shock to know it. I didn't need to see her shock or her angry gaze, or when she secretly turned around and slyly touched her face. Did she actually think I didn't notice these things?

"I..."

"Good afternoon!"

Naoko Yanagizawa's voice was the _deus ex machina _for Tomoyo. One second longer and someone would have been crying.

That, or getting kicked in the balls.

Like nothing happened, Tomoyo turned to face Naoko with a radiant smile and I stood up with my best deception plastered on my face.

The usual in cases like this.

"Good afternoon, Naoko."

Glancing, I admired the perfect serenity on her face, her straight and cheerful posture, her voice in the appropriate tone.

The perfect portrait of the perfect lie.

**Scene II**

**-Sakura-**

No one knew, but I loved the rain.

The moment it started to drizzle, I ran through the halls of the university to go to the empty yard. The students were already gone to find shelter from the dark clouds that were starting to block the sunlight. But I could hardly say it was sunny, because it seemed like the perfect night for thunder and lightning.

I stood in the middle of the green, empty space and closed my eyes, listening to the calming sound of the drops against my hair and my face as it wet my coat, turning it darker. I wanted to take it off and throw it somewhere far away while the water ran over my skin, washing away all my impurities and replacing it with something different.

No, _no one _knew that either.

The mud in my shoes didn't matter. Neither did the minimal makeup that was already ruined. My hair had become messy being tossed in the wind, like waves in the middle of a storm. For some reason, I remembered the old song from the book that could make me cry like a child. And it was because I was feeling _that _again.

_Sailor, sailor_

_Sailor of bitterness,_

_For your cause, sailor,_

_I'll go down to the grave..._

_The waves crash_

_And gliding along the sand,_

_There is the sailor_

_Whom I love so much..._

_The sailor's love_

_Is temporary love_

_The ship sets sail_

_And the sailor is gone..._

_The waves crash..._

I've read it once as a child, and I've been reading it again for some kind of masochism that only I could understand. Short phrases ran through my mind while the rain continued to pour over me.

_For God's sake I swear you'll suffer too..._

_I'll see you __**die in jail.**_

At that moment, my eyes filled with tears and mixed with the rain drops. The rain weakened, like me, and more sealed memories I didn't want to remember came to mind. The images were like dreams wrapping around other dreams and so on, like the layers of an onion, making it impossible to escape from this pain that some say is suffering.

_How easy dying was for some! Just an evil train and it would be done. And how difficult it was to go to heaven for me! Everybody held my legs and refused to let me go._

I pursed my lips to the saltiness of my memories. I commanded myself to erase the grimace on my face and turn it to what everybody knew as me: a smile, endless and naïve.

Nothing further and yet closer to the truth. Maybe it was a strange ambiguity that I created from the fear of unveiling my real self. A puppet ruled by invisible strings. Or the same girl, now smiling lifelessly, ruled by a big lie called Life.

**Scene III**

**-Syaoran-**

My mind was a dark maze full of shadows and corners, mist, thorny bushes and death traps. On my table was my third glass of whisky. I could hear the noise of the rain fall against the windows without making an effect on me. I was tense; my senses were alert despite the alcohol, the darkness, the time.

Too many ideas were haunting me, encircling my head like tormented souls.

Once again, the rehearsal was a complete failure. Yoshiyuki Terada was useless. He couldn't get into character and didn't know his lines, ruining everybody's work. Of course, his colleagues were angry at him, but when I finally lost my patience, everyone became defenders of the weakest.

As a result, I had an unbearable headache and the certainty that the play would be suspended...

_Cigarettes. _My blood instantly scratched my veins, crying out for nicotine.

Within a second, I looked down to the table and found it. I extended my arm, but caught sight of a stack of paper next to it.

_... Looking for people to work as extras in a play..._

_For those who are interested, please call..._

_Or you can go to..._

While lighting a cigarette, I remembered Tomoyo's triumphant expression that afternoon. I remembered her insistence, her insufferable way to make everything look fine and how she forced me to keep the flyers. I had tried to resist, but she threatened to burn the script she had stolen moments before.

That bitch even convinced me to get up and go to a photocopying service. I had gotten wet even more from wrapping my coat around the copies to keep them dry.

"Fucking extortionist..." My words were wreathed by the white clouds of my breath from the cold weather. Nevertheless, a smile broke out onto my face. "But, what would I do without her."

Deep inside, I knew this was necessary. We haven't had extras for a couple months, so if something happened to the actors the play would be over.

Although, well... It wouldn't change anything.

Not that the play wasn't already going down the drain, falling under its own weight.

A miracle, I said to myself. We needed a miracle in the body of an actor or actress to see the flyers. That was all. It would be perfect proof that God existed, but I knew it would never come.

I looked through the window again, filling my lungs with tar. The large drops beat the glass, and the entire place reverberated from the sporadic thunder. I could hardly see the blurred silhouettes of the buildings, the street lights, someone passing by under an ugly umbrella.

Laughing to myself, I wondered if the miracle would appear. If the Muse, the Angel, the God of Theater would appear in front of me with its long, pure and white wings to fix all my problems.

I extinguished the cigarette and took my glass of whisky again thinking about how ridiculous my thoughts were, thinking about the past, the present, the future, and all the stuff you thought about when you didn't know where to cling.

Finally, I came to the conclusion that there was no way a fucking masochist angel would appear in the middle of this storm.

**Scene IV**

**-Sakura-**

The trip from the university to my apartment was the perfect time to shake off the dust on my shoes before getting home. He didn't have to know that I had lapsed again, as he liked to call my moments of hallucinations.

I made myself comfortable at the back of the bus holding my hands in my lap, thinking about everything and nothing. Chills ran up and down my spine when I looked up and saw a beautiful and slender woman.

I knew her.

She was like an angel from a Raphael painting, something comparable to feminine perfection. My eyes drifted around her, looking at every detail of her anatomy, knowing precisely who had been running through her curves.

I looked down and tried to count to a million just so I could to think about something else. It was always useful. It was better than letting my mind run through forbidden places or where I knew the road ended.

"Sakura?"

She saw me. Shit.

"Mizuki-san," I said like a robot that had drawn a smile on its face. "It's been a long time."

_Lie. _

_I had smelled her perfume the day before. And the day before that too._

"Long time, for sure," she smiled, seemingly genuine as she sat down next to me and noted my wet clothes with an unconcerned gesture. "It seems like the rain caught you without your umbrella, sweetie."

"I have my umbrella right here," I pointed out without thinking. The devil inside me was forgetting it had to smile and only smile. "But it was fun to play under the rain!" I added with a bizarre and extra amount of enthusiasm.

The woman's face returned to her usual appearance. Friendly, candid, a woman who exuded warmth through her pores.

_And who rolls in other people's beds._

"I guess so," she said as she stood up, agile and splendid, as always. Her long hair danced around her curves. "Well, this is my stop. Take care and remember to tell your shameless boyfriend to give back the medical records he stole from the hospital, would you? It was a hard day at work today because I had to guess the patients' records..." she teased, laughing. "And give him a huge kiss from me too!"

I waved goodbye nodding, but the only thing on my mind was the echo of her beautiful voice saying the word KISS like it was nothing.

I realized my stop was next and stood up quickly. My clumsiness came to show when the bus stopped and I hit the post people cling on to maintain balance.

"_Holy God! Are you ok, darling?"_

"_Ouch, that must have hurt a lot, pretty girl."_

"_It's nothing. She's young and strong. She can handle it."_

I got off the bus rubbing my forehead. I could feel it swelling under my fingers while I cried internally for the growing pain in my head. On top of that, he would be at home and he would worry about me and my not-so-healthy mental state.

From the bus stop, I walked three blocks toward my destination like a zombie. I was looking for my keys when the door opened.

"Honey, I was about to go look for you. It's late and the weather is terrible..."

His soft and harmonious voice pounded harder in my brain than the contusion on my forehead. The voice that came from his throat, his mouth, his lips that weren't mine and never had been.

The same lips I've been afraid would settle on my skin.

The same face I've avoided to see every night despite sleeping beside me.

"I'm here, no worries!" I smiled and raised my right arm like a boxing winner, forgetting to cover my forehead with my left hand.

Eriol straightened his glasses promptly and approached to check my forehead with his deep and tempestuous gaze. I reproached myself for being so clumsy and stupid.

He had already been my boyfriend for several years. But I wanted his hands off me forever.

* * *

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**Author's notes**

Hey, hey! Charlotte and Choco-chan here. How's it going? We hope you liked the chapter... and that you understood it because the prologue was... special? Haha. Well, this is an introduction, actually. I guess you are already connecting dots –I bet you have an idea of how Syaoran and Sakura will meet. You'll find out soon about Tomoyo, Eriol, Kaho and the other characters. (:

That said, there's nothing left to say –I guess- except asking for your reviews! The fic is in progress, so your opinions are important. The longer and juicier, the happier we'll be! ;)

See you next time, like usual in cases like this...

**~Translator's notes~**

**Estela.A:** Hi! How is it going? A little detail, the old song Sakura was remembering is from the book "O Meu Pé de Laranja Lima" and it's like a Brazilian lullaby. About the story, I know it may be hard to understand at some points, but you'll see. Trust me, I've already read the 15th chapter and I'm craving for more, haha. Hope you like the chapter! Take care, and see you soon.

**Silver orchidz: **:D


	3. Act II: Variables

**Behind the curtains**

**ACT II**

"**Variables"**

* * *

**Scene I**

**-Syaoran-**

I hid waiting in that somber ally for two hours, alert at every movement or sound, staring at the sidewalk across the street, or the vanishing light coming from a nearby room, or the cat jumping between trashcans. Always vigilant, with my senses working in synchronization, I was consumed little by little until I became part of the darkness around me.

All the alarms in my head went off when she appeared in her coat, her stilettos and her elegant walk. She left the building, struggling with her umbrella while leaving the heat, the light and the safety behind. She walked in the middle of endless streets; there was no one else but us. Her, I...

_And my moment._

Hiding my face in the neck of my raincoat, I hunted her down. My feet moved in rhythm with her black hair.

My heart hammered in my chest like a madman, but my hand didn't tremble holding the dagger. Nevertheless, I was certain of all my movements, and that this had to happen. It was necessary, and fair.

_My revenge._

The sway of her hips invited me to throw myself over her. I could imagine her hips without clothing, moving over another body, being touched by someone else's hands. I could imagine her face distorted from pleasure, and her eyes looking at a stranger, not me.

And suddenly my blood began to boil in my veins.

_My woman._

I made a calculated move. I swung my arm back furiously to build momentum.

She turned around, and her terrified eyes caught sight of me.

I held her arms firmly; burying my fingers in her soft skin and tasting the pain in her amethyst eyes. Her open mouth that I'd kissed so many times before mumbled my name, pleading...

But I silenced her instantly with one hand.

_My victim._

All of a sudden, _bang, bang. _I was Maxwell and the dagger buried in Tomoyo's back was my silver hammer. And like an echo only I could hear, that sick and joyful melody sounded, _reaching _up to the infinite, in the middle of the death rattle, in the middle of a struggle against death resonating inside my prey.

And I... I was delighted with the feeling of the sharp metal piercing her flesh, fighting against the toughness of her bones that tried to stop the dagger from passing. _Crack... crack... crack._

Tomoyo twisted in my arms, kicked my ankles, buried her nails in my wrists, and her teeth in my skin.

But she couldn't run away.

_Because she was already dead._

I loosened my hold and her body fell like lead on the street. Her black hair hid her face, but I knew her eyes were open, in eternal mockery, because they would never see anything again. Ever.

Her hands were useless as well, her _beautiful _hands, since they would never touch anything again. Or her nose, it would never smell anything again; neither her ears, listen. And her mouth would always keep the taste of the kisses that caused her death.

At least until the worms underground ate her entire body.

And then there would be no flesh, no limbs and no positions, no blood flooding the pavement that was now blending in with the puddles of water in a way that I couldn't help but laugh.

Because, yeah: I kneeled in front of her body, in front of her blood, and _laughed._

I laughed, laughed, laughed like a mad man as the rain began to pour and a terrified scream was heard in the distance.

I laughed, conscious that I had _killed_ her.

I laughed, when my vision blurred from my tears.

_Who did this?_

There was a blast, a big black inert mass surrounded and devoured me, filled me, oppressed me.

A pair of cold and steel-tough hands girded my throat while boiling hot fingers inserted the basins of my eyes, reaching my brain.

_And pinching._

_Who's the culprit?_

I woke up as abruptly as my muscles allowed and something fell to the floor noisily.

The flash caused by the synaptic short-circuit didn't let me know if my eyes were closed or open, seeing nothing but blurred and colorful spectra.

I needed air in my lungs.

I needed to stop the bomb before it exploded in my chest.

I needed to silence the voices in my head.

I opened my eyes, but a bright white light blinded me.

With my heart in one fist and my other hand covering my eyes from the shining sunlight coming in the window, I tried to come back to what I supposed was reality. I noticed my body was covered in sweat. I was shaking so much I thought I was made of jelly.

The oxygen in the room was scarce so I stood as best I could and walked to the window to open it. The fresh air caressed my face and woke me. The sky was at its brightest and had a blue color I hadn't seen in years. The sun was warm, and little by little I calmed down after such a strange nightmare...

Although it was anything but strange. And due to these dreams, I had sleepless nights for weeks.

Resigned, I saw it was only 11:25am. There were a few more hours before I had to go to the theater. Maybe it would be a good idea to get coffee, since it was a nice day.

I got dressed and washed my face with cold water, found my raincoat and was ready to leave when the phone rang.

**Scene II**

**-Sakura-**

I covered my head with pillows when the alarm blared so I could stop hearing the _beep beep beep beep beep._

There was no one next to me, just the sunken side of the mattress cooling slowly while I embraced more and more of the blankets. I did what I could to make my pantomime of being asleep more realistic so I wouldn't have to face my roommate.

My boyfriend.

_The man who slept with me every night; although I felt I was sleeping alone._

My breathing quickened once I heard him walking around our bedroom, opening and closing the drawers of his desk. He couldn't find what he was looking for and was showing no signs of anxiety. And, sadly, it was my fault he couldn't find it, because I had hidden it somewhere only God could see.

I finally stopped my role as a sleeping girlfriend and stretched carelessly. I tousled my hair until I looked like Cousin Itt and adjusted my pajamas well so I wouldn't show more skin than necessary. My straps were losing its hold and I was struggling to keep them in place. I didn't like my skin.

But last night I was awake again, for some personal masochism I'll acknowledge until my last day on earth, watching Moulin Rouge. I loved the scene when they hugged and it was hard to distinguish where his body ended and where her body started. It was a perfect, unique moment.

_Forbidden for me._

I cleared my mind and waved a hand at Eriol, who had been looking at me for a while with his permanent kind and knowing smile.

"Good morning, little Sakura," he smiled and approached to kiss me but I shifted my face and offered my right cheek instead. It was nothing unusual, so he didn't bother to try again.

"Good morning Eriol," I lowered my head, ashamed while he caressed my face with his snow white fingers. "Are you... are you looking for something?" The answer certainly was 'yes' but I had to pretend to be... clueless, as usual.

I could not show my emotions in front of him. I could not be myself. And if I thought about it, I couldn't stop playing the doll I had become.

"Some sheets of paper, a work thing," he answered and kissed my forehead. He stood to continue searching. "But they must have grown feet since I can't find them and there's no trace of it."

He smiled again and turned around, looking for those papers again... but I knew from the beginning he would never find them.

"And... what exactly are you looking for?" I asked while getting up and putting on my shoes. "Are they in a folder or something?"

Eriol straightened his glasses and scrutinized me like he knew something. He actually knew me, or I should say he knew the fake me; _no one_ knew who I really was. What I really want. What I really like.

"I'll guess: laundry basket."

I shook my head. No.

"Cupboards, I bet."

I denied it again and blushed up to my ears.

"They're in the freezer," I murmured, and covered my head with a pillow. I remembered how I managed to put them there and I felt like a child.

While tidying up I saw the folder of paper occupying the entire kitchen table that wouldn't allow me to have lunch. So I emptied the freezer and put them there... and there they laid.

Straightening his glasses again, Eriol took my pillow and put both arms around me. He enclosed me between his body and the wall.

_Close._

_Too close._

"For God's sake, you're a brat!" he said laughing, without asking for an explanation and then hugged me tenderly. I knew he loved me _in that particular way _but for some reason he didn't ask me for more than I could, than I gave.

A hug. A kiss on the cheek. Sleeping together was huge coming from me.

"I'm really sorry," I tried to hug him back but he was already standing up. He grazed my nose against the neck of his shirt and I recognized his cologne, which I knew well... and another sweeter one.

I had to shake away my thoughts so I could command myself to act normally. I took my negligee and went to explore the kitchen, especially the freezer, my accomplice in 'Operation Cooling Paperwork'.

I opened the refrigerator and groaned when I realized I had to go shopping if I wanted a proper breakfast. A pair of unannounced hands surrounded my waist, making me feel chills and hyperventilation. I had to take a deep breath before asking what was going on.

"I already made your breakfast, sleepyhead," Eriol whispered in my ear, hugging me strongly from behind, "and also the grocery list." I looked at him from the corner of my eye because I wasn't getting it. "Internet?"

"Oh, I see," I nodded and 'stretched' again. I walked towards the dining table where the breakfast was ready, and I had to accept that sometimes I didn't really need to pretend to be clueless.

We both sat down to eat while the weather forecast announced long and (for me) beautiful days of rain and storms ahead... my inner devil was glad. I didn't want to go to college. I wanted to play under the rain instead.

"Don't wait for me for dinner, Sakura. I'll be busy at work with the patients needing attention and...," started Eriol, but I ignored his usual spiel.

_Which hotel room will you go to this time?_

_She'll probably be wearing black lingerie, as you like. Is that right, nasty pig?_

_She'll let you touch her in her dirtiest places, and allow you to whisper sweet nothings to her like the whore she is._

"Hum, no worries," I made a dismissive gesture with my hand. I bit my sandwich and the mayonnaise started to slip from my lips. He approached me with a napkin to clean it, but I instinctively rejected his touch. My devil side told me I shouldn't do that, but I couldn't stand it. "I'll eat something and then I'll enjoy my day off."

Eriol stood up ceremonially, took the dishes to the dishwasher and put on his coat, ready to leave. Like constant _déjà vu_ he reached over and tried to kiss my lips out of pity.

But I took him by the face, compelling our lips to collide and sunk my tongue as deep as I could, waiting for the spark that would never come.

"Have a nice day..."

**Scene III**

**-Syaoran-**

If you are the kind of person, like me, who loves to wander the streets at any time, you'll probably end up finding a quite clandestine little bookstore. It is hidden not because it's located in a dark alley or a password is used to enter. It's simply and purely that it's the kind of place that goes unnoticed for most pedestrians.

A big red paint stain will be the first thing you see, and if you pay attention, you'll discover that it's a miracle that the paint hasn't fallen to pieces a long time ago. If you're still interested, you'll discover that the dark wooden door is always open... and in case you are adventurous enough, you'll take the first step into that dimensional gate, and the sound of a bell will confirm that you've just crossed into a parallel universe.

Then you'll forget everything you've done, the sun or the rain outside, the people you met on the street, the things you thought or said, and you'll be speechless and astonished by the immense shelves of books, the spotlights composed of candles, the armchairs inviting you to sit and drink tea while reading something.

"Can I help you, Syaoran?"

I was startled by the voice and turned, almost scared, to find a tall, thin man behind the counter. I didn't notice him when I passed by his side to reach the center of the room. His smile betrayed him: he had appeared out of nowhere, like the Cheshire cat, only to surprise me.

Suspicious, I approached to be in front of him. His enormous blue eyes watched me attentively in amusement.

"No," I said. "I think everything is under control."

Fye seemed to be pleased with my answer when his smile grew wider. He pointed behind him to the coffee machine in a mute invitation. I nodded, tasting the memory of the coffee served there.

"Well, how have you been?"

When I got Fye's call before leaving my apartment, I knew that I would be telling him everything in my fucking head lately, that I would end up crying about the theater's pathetic situation and that he would sympathetically pat me on the shoulder before advising me diplomacy and tranquility. But it was too early to reveal it, I said to myself, so I preferred giving an evasive answer.

"How about you? Your life after traveling through Europe and the Mediterranean is probably more interesting than mine."

He shrugged, and took a seat across the counter while the coffee machine did its work. I did the same, knowing it would be a long chat.

"Pretty good. The Mediterranean is bluer than I thought, and I have to mention that Kurogane behaved well." Sighing, Fye upheld his chin with a hand and rolled his eyes. "He exceeded my expectations, would you believe me if I told you that there weren't any problems with anyone? Maybe it was because he didn't understand the language, but even so... it was kind of weird.

And now I should clarify some things about Kurogane.

First of all, I've rarely seen Kurogane, and most of the time I felt that it was a miracle I was alive. His stares were almost lethal. And I didn't want to imagine what it would be like to see him angry.

Second, I never understood the relationship between them. In all the years I've known Fye, I never asked about it, and nobody clarified it. Or maybe nobody wanted to. So, I preferred to leave it there.

Although, realistically... I didn't think there was much to guess. Or imagine.

"Impressive, for sure," I nodded and took a long gulp of coffee that appeared magically on the table next to me. My tongue recoiled in pain, trying to run away from the abrasive heat.

"But tell me, Syaoran, how's the play going?" His sharp stare felt like knives slicing through my eyes and exiting the back of my head. "You promised to talk about it when we were on the phone, and I have no intentions of letting you escape until you tell me something. Take into consideration that you only have an hour. You wouldn't make an excuse and say you're running late to go to the theater, right?"

"No," I lied, hiding my discomfort. "Of course I wouldn't."

"Then," he continued, "you came here because you wanted to talk to me, right?"

"Right, but..."

"What's wrong?"

It was nothing new to see this side of Fye which was so similar to Tomoyo's attitude. Whenever they had an idea, it was useless and a waste of time trying to avoid the subject or giving indirect answers. I guess they preferred spending time and energy getting information about other people's lives rather than sharing their own.

Nevertheless, I knew what I had gotten myself into. I knew he was like that. It was stupid to try playing a fool, so it was time to confront him. I leaned my elbows onto the counter and decided to speak.

"In general, everything's great. Naoko's script is really good..."

"Naoko, the four-eyed bitch?" interrupted Fye.

"She doesn't wear glasses anymore, but yeah," It didn't matter to me. "As I said, she wrote the script, and it's one of our non-classical plays. Everything is okay, but the problem is that nobody seems to take it seriously." The memory of groups gathering around the stage to chat while the rest of their colleagues were rehearsing appeared in my mind, laughing at me. "I don't know what the problem is. Maybe they don't like the script or they think _amateur _plays are crap, but the truth is that they give less than half of what they're capable of doing.

Fye nodded, paying attention to every detail. He continued to gaze at me and took a sip of coffee.

"Maybe they don't respect me as their director anymore," I reasoned, passing a hand through my hair, as I did whenever I was nervous. "Or maybe they're tired of being actors and barely earning enough money doing it. Maybe they invested their time into something more productive and that's why they're committing less and less to the rehearsals and leaving the script to practice later. On top of all that, we're losing many of our former clients and income... So much that the theater is falling apart."

"I understand." His sigh felt like a new weight on my shoulders. I really disappointed him, I thought. "When I left you in charge, Syaoran, I warned you that this world is declining. People prefer to go to the movies or watch TV at home than going to the theater. Right now the only audience the theater has is... strange, bohemian people, the minority... it's normal to have a lower income. The trend sometimes changes faster than we would like... but, well, more coffee?"

"Sure." I paused waiting for him to fill my cup, and got distracted for a second watching the steam rise until it faded in the air. "I've been talking about it with Tomoyo, who's been acting foolish lately, and..."

"Tomoyo?" Fye seemed surprised, and cut me off. "Is there something wrong?"

"She's seeing that guy again, Ritsuko, you know," I growled a little against my will. "I don't know how many times I've told her to stay away from him, he's too dangerous, but this genius keeps turning a deaf ear. And I try to remind her again and again what he wants from her, although despite all that effort, she still prefers to be deaf, blind and mute."

Fye shook his head, most likely accustomed and resigned to it.

"It's always the same story, Syaoran. You need to understand to respect her decisions. Tomoyo is old enough to know what she wants and who she wants to be with."

Without paying any more attention to the issue after receiving the same old answer, I dug through my pocket until I found a copy of the flyers I had to distribute. I gave it to Fye, who looked at it curiously while I tried to continue with the truly important matters.

"As I was saying, I've been talking about it with Tomoyo, and she finally convinced me to hand these out. Maybe if we bring new actors into the play the others might regain interest, or we can even replace some of the old ones."

My friend's enigmatic smile grew until its maximum splendor.

"I think it's a great idea. Would you mind if I keep this one? I assume you have more copies."

"Sure," I conceded, unable to refuse his request when his smile frightened me. "You can do whatever you want with it. And if you find me a new actor, I'd be really grateful. Especially if it's a good one."

I stared absently at Fye while he put the piece of paper in one of the pockets of his shirt. He winked.

"Done," he said.

At that moment, the sound of the bell brought us back to reality and we both turned our heads to see who entered.

It wasn't common to see people around here, let alone before five or six in the afternoon, when the THC concentration in the air was increasing for some _mysterious_ reason.

We were surprised to see, in addition to being inopportune, it was a _new_ visit. The couple that entered was unfamiliar and their appearance didn't fit in with the ambiance of the place. The man was well-dressed; his coat showed that he was too classy to move around places like this. And the girl seemed scared and tense, probably because she noticed she had just entered a den.

"Good morning," said Fye, causing the new arrivals to jump a little as if they hadn't known he was there. It was common, as I had proven earlier. "Do you need any help? I had just received new arrivals that may interest you. Especially if you are passionate about XIX century literature..."

"Oh, actually, I came for photocopies," the girl answered timidly, looking around slyly and like a frightened bunny. "Well, if it's possible..."

"Of course it is!" Fye, with outrageous enthusiasm, pointed his finger to the old photocopier hidden behind boxes filled with books. "The poor machine is dusty and battered, but it still works well."

"Great."

The man with the glasses had gotten into the conversation very naturally, but there was something in his voice, attitude, or gaze that gave me goose bumps and instant antipathy towards him. I looked at my watch pretending I was running late for rehearsal and decided to take the opportunity to leave.

"I'll leave you with your clients, Fye," I announced. He gave me a reproachful look hidden behind his rehearsed smile. "It wouldn't help if I arrive late today."

Without giving him a chance to answer, I left my empty coffee cup on the counter, put on my coat and turned around. I didn't bother to say goodbye to anyone present, and even "accidently" bumped into the man with glasses and impeccable clothes while passing him.

Naturally, I didn't bother to apologize and left the bookstore thinking only about how I would kill the spare time before going to the theater...

Or maybe not.

**Scene IV**

**-Sakura-**

Watching Eriol's back approach the door to leave, I felt my entire mouth burning, my lips throbbing a little and imagining how red they were.

I should never, _ever,_ tempt Fate to twist its strands.

I shouldn't have assumed of being able to change what was already going to happen one way or another. I didn't have the power to lead my life, and it was the truth, regardless of how pitiful and pathetic it was, because someone, somewhere for some reason had taken my possibility to choose.

Kissing my boyfriend was not something outlined in the statute I never read. I shouldn't wait for my body to react like it was supposed to do. I had been denied all the pleasure that involved reality, or what I presumed would.

However, Eriol started rubbing his hands nervously on my back, going up and down from my shoulders to my waist, stopping only to squeeze my flesh beneath his palms with violence and some kind of mania that reminded me of the shelf I stored a life full of dust.

She came to my mind, crossing through the night sky of my insanity and made me hostage of the memory of other hands, very different ones, wandering around the trails of her life without permission. It made me shiver and my so-called lover took it as a response to his seemingly "innocent" caresses.

I wasn't moving my lips anymore. I stayed still and waiting, breathing only when I was allowed; like I was being taught, like a doll without a voice or vote, to satisfy his cravings. That was when I reacted; the dagger revolving inside me was splattering blood. Too much blood. And my clothes were stained with the vital and poisonous fluid.

Dripping it on the floor of a room that was getting smaller and smaller...

"Eriol!" I said louder than normal, but trying not to yell like my chest commanded. My boyfriend looked at me through his glasses with his eyes embedded with the lust I'd created in him. I didn't want to know, I didn't want to see it. But he had both blue crystal eyes fixed on me, waiting for an answer, a word. There was no way I would say what he wanted to hear.

"Is something going on, honey?" he whispered menacingly.

"No, well... You see..." I searched my mind while I tried to make my change of position look natural. I pushed him away and stood up to walk around the room. "Oh, you know?" I was terrible at thinking of a lie when he stood so close in my personal space. "I need some copies of my research paper and the campus library already closed... and well... I need them for tomorrow and I...!"

"I see, darling." His face turned into a paternal, approving smile to what I had just said. Big deal. "Come on, we'll look for some place to do it before I go to work. Get dressed quickly."

I smiled as practiced and jumped from the dining room to our bedroom, rushing to shuffle through my clothes to find something to wear. I found a pair of giant black pants and a black t-shirt with words in a language I didn't understand. I rummaged a little bit more, got a sweater and a jacket and finding in the process one of my favorite hats which I immediately put on my head. I was one of the children from Dickens' novels.

I stepped into the room and found Eriol on the phone, smiling and walking around with a facial expression like he was enjoying life.

"Oh, Sakura, you're ready!" he exclaimed with an extra amount of energy which sounded too fake, even for him. Then he whispered into the phone as low as possible, "_I have to leave, sweetheart. Take care._"

The devil inside was subdued. Even my personage had limits. I wasn't a fucking idiot, even though he used to see me as a stupid girl with innocent eyes and an infantile body.

_Fuck you._

_And soon; God._

I pulled up my pants because they were falling to the line of my underwear. In that moment I was grateful for the fact that I was wearing women's boxer shorts; since I started living with Eriol I couldn't afford to walk around half naked at any moment.

It was tragicomic.

Any woman who lived with her lover showed her best lingerie to satisfy her partner. Probably something sexy, scandalous, even some audacious costumes, anything it took to turn the passion on between the sheets. The heat in the room.

_But I didn't._

_Never._

"I'll wait outside," I said, pretending to be oblivious and didn't give him a chance to respond.

I opened the door and stepped into the warm hallway. The day definitely was inviting to stay in bed once I was back in the apartment with the not-so-urgent copies. But they were necessary to save myself from the previous moment.

I got into the elevator accompanied by my neighbor carrying her little baby. It was incredible how that little creature smiled at the woman and clapped her little hands every second by her mom's side. Every moment of maternal gentleness.

_Mom..._

My neighbor was just a couple years older than me. But we looked so different. We were as different from each other as we could possibly be. Her face was charged with joy and happiness, while I could only imagine my reflection.

Dark circles. Pale. And the ambiguity of a body covered in gigantic clothes that hid my female features. I was my own creation.

"It's very cold today, right, Itsuki? We had to put on very warm clothes!" she said while turning her gaze from her daughter to me with her beautiful and tender smile, a tenderness I had known little and nothing at the same time. "I think Sakura is also freezing."

I smiled. This time, for real.

"Just a little, it's nothing," I answered and smiled back at her. "My, how your baby has grown! She's beautiful, really."

"Thank you very much! To be honest, these first few months she's grown a lot. You have no idea how many muscles I've developed just from holding her!" Any complaint she had faded away immediately; she was radiating with joy. "But I couldn't be happier. A child is the greatest gift life gives you, trust me. A little piece of you and the one you love combined into one little being... Isn't it a beautiful idea?"

"Sure, just like her," I assured while approaching to kiss the baby's tiny forehead. "I think... my mom must have been like you," I murmured to myself.

We arrived to the first floor and she walked ahead of me, since her husband was waiting for them outside. I strode past them and waved goodbye, while watching them leave. He had brought the stroller and once the baby girl was placed, he kissed his wife lovingly and they walked away. Embraced.

I felt a twinge of envy, a feeling I hated with all my heart.

"My apologies for the delay," Eriol appeared by my side and put a hand on my waist, forcing me to walk and match his pace. "We have to hurry, I'm a little late and I don't want to leave Kaho alone for long."

I tuned him out, and I stayed that way during the ride. I wasn't really looking where we were going nor paying attention to Eriol; I didn't feel like doing any of those things. I was completely reluctant; a whole concrete wall had fallen upon me after the sight of what I would never have.

I was Jacqueline Du Pré and my neighbor was Hillary (N/T: they were sisters. There's a movie called 'Hillary and Jackie' about Hillary's version of the life of her sister. Check Wikipedia for more info). Even though she wasn't a cellist, or successful, I had my share of jealousy and envy towards that family that might have seemed bland when seen with the naked eye, but that I yearned with every fiber of my being.

I looked askance at Eriol and noticed he had fallen silent, staring ahead, oblivious of my presence. He was parking the car in front of a bookstore, or what seemed to be one, murmuring something about being lucky and a photocopier.

We wouldn't lose anything.

I had so much time to waste, and ruining Eriol's plans was hatefully tempting for the devil inside me, who smiled, pleased in my chest.

We crossed the door and it was like entering a different world. Everything, and I mean _everything_, was amazing. Simply wonderful, every corner was full of fairy dust, turning things around me into something absolutely magical.

And I had seen it all from the angle behind Eriol's shoulder, because the presence of the two people next to the counter had intimidated me for some reason. The truth was that they were disturbing; one of them radiated so much extravagance as possible, and the other one was...

_Dark._

_Or more than that._

That man, whom I only glanced at because of the fear his aura created in me, left the moment the blonde man attended us. And collided into Eriol on his way out, without stopping to check if he was all right.

"Some people have no manners or respect for others," I murmured while grabbing the copies from the photocopier. "How much is it?"

"Oh, courtesy of the house since it's your first time!" The eccentric man gave us a wide smile. Eriol was glad and grateful and promised to buy something else another time. I was so fascinated by his strange grin that I didn't notice my boyfriend left until I heard the sound of the doorbells like a strange echo.

"Thank you very much," I said mechanically and blinked awake from the trance. I guess it was purely luck when I noticed a sheet of paper I hadn't seen before, sticking out from the rest of my photocopies. "Hey, this isn't mine."

His grin didn't change. He opened his eyes for only a second, emphasizing his next words.

"Take the risk to be behind the curtain, darling."

After that, he left the counter when someone called him from the other side.

I awoke again and took the piece of paper to confirm it wasn't his phone number or email.

"A... flyer?"

A chill ran through my spine and I remembered something I didn't really know. Whatever it was, it was something I didn't understand.

And it was wonderful not to know, sometimes.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

I think the fear of someone not getting to the end of a 'Behind the curtains' chapter is something we should get used to, at least for now. And I think it never hurts to remind you that this story is M-rated... anyway, we hope you're reading this after the whole chapter, of course. In fact, we know you do.

Well, this clears up some important points about the character's personalities, but there's still a lot coming. For example, a little detail is prepared for the next chapter and we know it will give an illusion to some of you.

THANK YOU for the reviews! Hope you liked the chapter, see you next time!

Greetings!

**Don't forget to follow us in TUMBLR (Truthless behind the curtain) and deviantART (Choco-menta). Links in my profile!**


	4. Act III: Instances

**Behind the curtains**

**Act III**

**"Instances"**

* * *

**Scene I**

**-Sakura-**

_Behind the curtain_

_Between pantomime shadows_

_Between howls of perversion_

_Do not ask, nor smile._

_Do not wake them from their reverie._

_All are silent behind the curtain._

_Behind the curtain..._

_No life. No certainties._

_The world belongs to us_

_In silent expectation._

_All kiss behind the curtain._

I gasped when my foot sunk into a puddle as I got out of Eriol's car. I cursed my luck and cursed myself, because my mind was full of nonsense crap since that guy gave me the flyer at the bookstore.

Okay. Let's go over the facts.

What were the chances that someone like me was to receive an invitation from a stranger to join a clearly _amateur_ theater to do God knows what? Or, rather, beyond the opportunities of persuading my own fate to twist a little, why would it answer me this way?

It was not coherent. It had neither a tail nor a fucking head to start, and if we go from that basis, I didn't have to keep considering it because it wouldn't reach a fucking end.

Or however you want to look at it.

Listening to the water splashing in my right shoe that didn't help keep me dry, I entered taking two steps at a time in the building. I had no real intention to leave home (ha, what a joke) and more than anything, I wanted to get in between my sheets and do what my body vehemently asked: spend a day without someone fucking me up.

And by fucking me up I meant any manifestation of human life, non-virtual, presenting in front of me to demand or ask me something beyond the everyday shit.

No.

Today I wanted to get drunk on old movies, wild documentaries about countries nobody would visit in a lifetime, and maybe, if I was in the mood, a music channel that I wouldn't understand because it wasn't my thing.

With all of that, along with the shopping that my gentle father-boyfriend had done for me, I blessed my luck for having him by my side. I hoped he remembered how much I liked junk food like chocolate, candy and ice cream on these types of days.

Although the weather was suddenly becoming pleasant again, the cold was being compensated by the very warm sun and a disgusting blue sky when we left; my body temperature felt like the harshest winter in recent years. I wanted to have my nose under as many blankets as I could.

The place was exactly how we had left it. My cup from breakfast was cooling on the kitchen table while everything else (toast, jam, and fruit) remained waiting for me to put in order, so it wouldn't look like our neighbor's flat.

Finding my forgotten motivation somewhere in a drawer, I rolled up my sleeves and began cleaning like I was possessed by the spirit of an obsessive compulsive housewife. I came and went until I was convinced the place looked good. I plopped down onto a couch in the living room and started to flip through a magazine.

"It's so clean I can brush my teeth using the furniture as a mirror..."

I turned around when I heard the little voice. Occasionally he entered through the window and spoke about a completely different world than the one I knew. I thought it was just a joke the first time, but the little boy kept coming back saying the same thing over and over again.

I liked it.

"I know. I can already get married, don't you think?" I mocked. He rolled his golden eyes in response. "Got it captain. No jokes in the morning."

"Admiral, in any case. And sir for you," he corrected immediately, sitting beside me.

"Have you been traveling?" I asked as I walked towards the refrigerator. "Look, Eriol bought the orange juice that you liked so much, do you want some?"

The little boy smiled, a hint of malice dancing on his childish lips, while his suspicion struggled to stay hidden. Nevertheless, I knew he didn't like Eriol, even a little. Instead, he liked me, in some strange and farfetched way, because he always tried to be close to me. And no matter what it sounded like, I needed him to share the warmth of his little body with me.

Besides, he knew better than anyone about my 'hidden' feelings.

_I didn't want Eriol._

_Not as a boyfriend. Not even as a friend._

_I didn't want him in my life._

"You don't want him," he sighed, stretching like a kitten searching for my lap as I sat beside him to offer a glass of the orange juice. He didn't appreciate it.

"Aren't you thirsty?" I asked, waving the juice from left to right, in an effort to tempt him. "It's fresh, you'd like it. And vitamins are always good."

"You know that I prefer to be alone to drink," he pointed out. "The only thing I would like to do now is to listen to some music. But I imagine you don't have anything by _The Beatles_,do you? Listening to them would do you good..."

He continued discussing the same subject while I ran away from his universe. Maybe he ran away from mine. Many times I had forgotten that behind his façade, he wasn't a child. Instead, I could be the child in the room conversing with an adult.

"I'm not talking about whisky, you know." I shrugged thinking about the possibility of downloading music from the band my friend was obsessed with. "It's a shame you never want to share anything with me."

"I'm the only person you share something real with." He smiled shamelessly and took my face with his hands and looked at me with his golden orbs. "Instead of that picture perfect cake topper you call a boyfriend, Sakura. You really need someone like me: egocentric but not annoying, and moderately adorable."

I raised an eyebrow almost a mile up. He could be so cheeky sometimes. Those hints of acidity made it extremely complicated to match his words with his angelically childish face.

"That's called paedophilia, my little friend. And believe me; I'm not going to jail, at least not for that reason..."

I stopped, because probably... just, probably. Better not to think about it.

"Then I have to find my adult self, so you'll finally belong to me. You know you have to only be for me, right, _Sakura_?"

I wanted to refute, because although he was a child, he had touched me in too adult a way.

"Hey you! You better stop thinking of those things or...!"

But, as usual, my little imp had already vanished the same way he came.

**Scene II**

**-Syaoran-**

"Here, next to the window. Is that okay?"

I looked at the boy next to me with his subdued determined expression, and couldn't reject the offer. I nodded slightly; he stepped forward and almost ran into the chair he had chosen. He looked like an abandoned child with his auburn hair gushing with water, wet jacket and mud covered pants.

"But the truth is that you're not," I said out loud to myself, when he took his seat.

"I'm not what?"

"A waif. At the mercy of the rain and other meteorological disasters, who entered the coffee shop to find a little shelter."

A smile crossed his little mouth like lightning.

"Of course not, Syaoran."

"Good afternoon."

The girl on my right took me by surprise, so I struggled to avoid jumping before turning to her. She held a small notebook in one hand and a pen in the other.

"Two coffees, please," I decided. "No sugar."

She wrote so fast, her pen looked transparent. She finished and looked at me and my companion with her dark eyes.

"Two?" she asked.

"Yes."

She moved her head down.

"Right away."

"You don't come to this coffee shop often, do you?" he murmured absentmindedly, playing with his napkin.

"No, I've honestly never been here before," I answered, a little surprised. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged his small shoulders indifferently.

"Anyone can tell that they're not used to you. I say it for the waitress."

I snorted.

"Here we go again..."

"All right, all right," he held his hand in the air, claiming peace. "I think your terrible mood is clear enough to stop provoking your temper."

I shook my wet coat and grudgingly hung it on the back of my chair.

My temper, he says. _My temper_; right now, I don't know why it's not all up to my ears now.

I ended up going to the theater after leaving Fye's bookstore. I walked through the streets feeling almost happy under the radiant midmorning sun. I had opened the heavy door and crossed the dark hallways until I reached the middle of the main room where my creatures were rehearsing.

But the vision was quickly transformed, and those who previously represented my work were now part of other scenes, other characters, other galaxies. Their expressions were cold, absent, like masks of ice. Their hearts weren't burning like flames; they were dry and withered, instead. All dead and crushed.

At the top, Chiharu and Yamazaki pretended to perform. Between boxes, books and dust, Rika Sasaki and Yoshiyuki Terada, the supposed protagonists, were in the middle of groping and usually invested their time with flirting and clandestine sex sessions. I wouldn't have minded if they dedicated the same amount of time trying to turn into decent actors.

Right then Tomoyo's words were no longer useful. My despair was at its peak; it had blossomed and ripened, and its fruits were abruptly falling in the form of fits of rage when I realized how screwed up I was.

_You smell like cheap perfume. Are you already hooking up with whores?_

_Smoke. For once it's fine._

_You and I can only be friends. I'm already in love with someone else..._

Images. Images from my childhood and adolescence faded my common sense, my reason; they burned my serenity, it boiled my adrenaline.

It didn't matter that Tomoyo yelled for me, or chased after me, I walked furiously towards the exit. Soon I was outside the theater, shocked and growing angry with the suddenly cloudy sky, that squeezed its clouds to make a heavy rain fall on my burning head.

Lowering my gaze, I let the sky cry its tragedies above me, and I let myself wander blindly, waiting to burn out my fury, or at least calm it down a little. Halfway, I realized that my unnamed little friend was unexpectedly at my side, mimicking my pace perfectly.

"Here's your coffee."

I thanked her with a nod when the girl put the steamy cup in front of me, and I nodded again when she looked at me doubtfully before putting the other cup in front of my companion. Sometimes, people didn't like to see that children drank coffee. But he had always been like an adult to me.

...To be honest, I met him a few years ago. Since then, he used to appear often in the same places I did. We got along well, although sometimes he liked to act like my conscience.

"You know I'm not going to drink it," he replied gently. "I don't like coffee, let alone without sugar. Besides..."

"All right. I know. I didn't want you to drink it." Tired, I looked outside where the rain continued to fall. "I just wanted to feel less alone. But don't worry, I'll drink this fast and then we'll go back to the theater."

"So soon?" he asked, astonished.

"Yeah, buddy." His golden eyes studied me carefully. "I have to go back. I don't know if I'll go through that door to yell and fire everyone, or if there'll be any one left. But whatever it is, I have nothing to do here." I gulped my coffee. "And I think I desperately need to hook up with someone. Maybe someone will offer as a volunteer." He lifted a brow. "Someday you'll understand."

I quickly drank my coffee, and soon we were outside the café going toward my ruinous nightmare. My friend took clumsy steps, trying to avoid the puddles because he hated them very much, and complained about absolutely everything.

When I stopped under the large doorway, I noticed I was alone again and guessed that he left behind at some point like always. Perhaps to do another visit, or to go for a walk. I honestly didn't know anything about his other friends or customs...

The sound of the falling rain relaxed my body and the aroma of the wet ground was the most pleasure I felt that day. The icy breeze sank into my bones, stirred up the layer of dust on my soul and filled my senses, connecting me with the Cosmos when I closed my eyes.

Trapped inside one of the loops of magical ether, I let myself go. I felt the ground as a dense water mattress under my feet. I felt each minuscule particle of the muddy essence supporting the weight of my body.

Then, the tingling extended from my feet to the tips of my fingers, and I had to stretch my hands to channel it back and make the sensation fly to the center of my brain, where it exploded and turned into a warm source of sugar and salty honey.

Reminiscences. Warmth and tranquillity. All side effects.

But the ecstasy suddenly was broken, painfully destroying some of my neurons, tearing the wrong connections, forcing me to come back to reality. A few hurried steps had mangled the channel and the harmony, a few splashes had buried such an intense moment under the mud. And when I wanted to realize it, that awkward dark shape was walking forward, making her way along the water curtain beside me, breathing agitatedly.

Her new proximity allowed me to discover that, instead of being a dark shadow, her face was pale. Her hair was no longer like formless melted tar, but was now wet auburn strands scattered over her shoulders and breasts. Her green eyes flashed brightly in the middle of the penumbra, and her ajar mouth expelled maddening warmth. Very similar to the warmth of my last astral connection.

The most delicious and warm creature of Creation stood in front of me, with a false expression of a porcelain doll.

The same electric current returned to climb up from my feet and to my spine. If it reached into my brain again, I was sure it would have killed me.

"I'm here, Syaoran," she said. "You've been waiting a long time, don't you think?"

Desperate, I pulled her into my arms. Her delicate body arched under my strength, and her hands grabbed my back. Her hands were freezing, her clothes drenched, but yet the warmth of her chest pierced to me.

Her nose grazed my chin, and I closed my eyes before acceding to the silent request.

I bit the tender flesh of her lower lip, and she shuddered. Then, a soft, almost imperceptible kiss on her little mouth. Just to confirm that it tasted like honey. And, to such delicacy, I ended up sinking into her warm interior, with her tongue stroking mine, faster and faster.

My hand flew to her hip, and the other hooked up one of her legs and made her grab onto me. I sunk deeper into her mouth, bringing her closer, wishing to trap her against the wall and make her mine.

But when I opened my eyes again, I saw the beautiful woman far away from me, without any traces of blushing, nibbles or desire in her stare.

Because none of that had really happened.

I didn't even know her. Or so I thought, until the memory of her face made an appearance and called me an idiot for not identifying her earlier. She was the same girl who entered Fye's bookstore with the unpleasant guy whom I guessed was her boyfriend... or her father.

Something ignited in the depths of her eyes, and then frowned.

I realized she had just recognized me too.

"Good afternoon, miss," I overtook her likely hostile comment. "Although, of course, the weather could improve and make things easier."

She looked at me with what I presumed was mistrust for a millisecond, and then her expression instantly turned into absolute tranquillity.

_Interesting._

"It really could," she sighed, reminding me that she had a voice. "I don't understand why, but it changed so unexpectedly. And it was so nice until just an hour and half ago!"

Her dazzling smile would have captivated me longer, if it weren't for a curious and cheerful Tomoyo appearing at the entrance.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "This isn't the weather to stay outside. It'll be better to get inside and talk calmly..." Probably noticing the other presence for the first time, she looked toward the strange visitor. "Oh, hello! Can we help you with something?"

The girl fiddled over her lap before answering nervously:

"I... I ran across one of the flyers mentioning this theater." Even more interested, I stared at her and she looked down right away. "I came because I wanted to join the... _cast. _ I would like to work on a play."

"That's fantastic!" Tomoyo's howl and my surprise prevented me from making a comment. Where did this girl get the flyer? "Syaoran, I didn't know you already handed them out. Why didn't you tell me?" Her euphoria made me turn to her irremediably to see her face full of joy. "I thought you didn't distribute them... you're so stubborn..."

It was true. Tomoyo knew me better than anyone else.

Although not enough to know that she was right.

"I preferred it to be a surprise," I lied, diminishing its importance by shrugging my shoulders softly.

Tomoyo said nothing; instead her attention was drained by our aspiring actress. She grasped her hands and looked at her with infinite adoration.

"And you," she almost moaned. "My gosh, you're gorgeous. I'm sure you're what we were looking for. I'd love for you to join our group..."

The terrified victim understood the hint.

"Sakura," she answered hastily. "I'm Sakura Kinomoto."

"Sakura," Tomoyo repeated. "You're perfect. I'd love to sew all your costumes for each one of your scenes. It's my work here, but in your case, it'd be a hobby. By the way, I'm Tomoyo Daidouji, and this is Syaoran Li. But come on," Sakura was now being dragged through the hallway, while her captor didn't stop chattering, "I must introduce you to the rest of the group, and give you clothes to put on, because you're a mess. Let's try on some costumes and then..."

Tomoyo's enthusiastic voice faded away, and then it was only the rain and I again.

I lit a cigarette and stepped into the theater, rejecting further reflections.

The specimen enclosed in our walls was too interesting to miss.

**Scene III**

**-Sakura-**

Truly, I have very little desire to rebel against kindness.

As weird as it sounds, it's one of the best weaknesses; if you could say so.

I can't resist to what I find sincere, genuine. It's too complex for me to turn down the state of joy that I had barely experienced, so I need to hang on with fervour to someone who gives me those caresses so forbidden for me. Weird, and at the same desperately time, real.

The stranger with endlessly long black hair, stared at me with her amethyst eyes and made me unable to be _myself_, and I melted at the contact of her white hands, as I wanted to know if that caress was maternal or at least close.

She seemed really happy to see me there, even though she didn't know me. She didn't know who I was, which was my motivation, what I was looking for by venturing there without knowing anyone.

She could easily be a serial killer with a strange fetish for amateur actors or actresses. Or an FBI agent tracking networked abductors, and her clues led her to that sinister place with the smell of confinement... yeah. All right, I'm rambling a lot. But there's a reason for everything. Otherwise, why the hell I would feel so at ease there?

I put aside the dark and alcohol-scented presence given off by the man who greeted me at the entrance and let myself be dragged by Tomoyo, the name of my strange kidnapper, until we reached what looked like the center of the theater, with the scenery and the actors. And I would be lying if I said that I wasn't surprised by what I saw there.

An old classmate, Rika Sasaki, smiled kindly at a man I recognized right away: one of our old physical education teachers. I had always thought that Rika and Professor Terada had a relationship beyond a student and a teacher.

In that moment, it didn't bother me. I was not concerned with what I clearly recognized as a flagrant crime of paedophilia right in front of our noses. If I recalled, I had seen them together several times like they were now, with his hand on her shoulder and who knows what other places too...

What?

I can believe that other people _do _give loose rein to their instincts.

She hadn't changed since the last time we were together, and that's quite a big deal because she kept the mature thing she always had. Her friendly and calm expression looked as if she had taken a large dose of Clonazepam to relax. He was different. Evidently, he was old. Or he was already old and became even older now from what I remembered because I met him as an adult and I have the memory of a mosquito.

_Although being an adult didn't stop him from defiling a child of my age._

This is redundant, almost unnecessary, but it is shocking, don't you think? Back at school, Terada was a synonym for answers to me. A great man who had the solution to practically every pseudo-existentialist doubt I had. Or being a little less exaggerated, every math problem I couldn't solve.

I wish crystal balls were real. Then I would ask absolutely everything.

_Why do I live like this? With what motive?_

_Why... do I no longer feel?_

_Why I am like this?_

I closed my mind and conscious senses to submerge into those thoughts, filled and saturated with something similar, or at least the shadow of what would become, the happiness and satisfaction of ignorance. Not understand.

It was good being blind sometimes. Or perhaps occasionally not so blind.

When I considered my past life, my eyes shut as tight as possible. Unloading my always oppressed frustration: trampling mentally who I had in front of me. Never out loud. Never face to face.

_Go to hell, Eriol!_

_Get another nurse to lick your wounds._

_Die, for god's sake!_

"...And that's Chiharu Mihara and Naoko Yanagizawa."

The interruption was timely, given that I was quite distracted and could have fallen on the ground, had convulsions and foamed at the mouth. Or something like that.

Insanity takes fathomless roads to the silver thread that ties us to reason. And I had been wandering those places restlessly since my mother disappeared from the life map and my family became a big question mark.

"Naoko is our writer," the tireless and uninteresting peroration of information about the rest of the group continued. All I could think about was Naoko's new nose, and that I didn't recognize her without the glasses she used to wear back in high school. "She has written many plays, but for the first time we all decided to perform something completely _amateur_."

I smiled mechanically, almost by the work of some kind of hooks lifting the corners of my lips.

Absently, I remembered the precise moment I decided to venture to that twisted place.

After being left alone again, when my little friend had decided that it was not important to say goodbye to me, I sat on the corner of the couch considering his words like they were a sacred anthem that invaded my neurons, by burning them slowly, like the worst kind of drug.

_A bit of angel dust?_

Unlikely.

If I knew something, it was that my particular gremlin was not exactly what you would call a creature of God. He wasn't an acolyte of the Unmentionable either, but beyond that, his mouth had the same taste as old coffee.

"Uff..." I sighed, standing up and walking towards my bed. My plan for the day was already going to hell, but I could save a few hours of sleep to repair my mental state and probably stay awake later to watch some film.

_While You Were Sleeping _was a great option. Or _My Best Friend's Wedding._

I needed a friend like George, definitely. Someone gay, sarcastic, who spread his good mood through the pores of his homosexual body, and had no objections in kissing me and thinking that I was the most exciting woman in the world, just because I asked him to say so.

Even though he wanted to _have_ that body, but not _own_ it.

_So _pathetic.

_Riiing! Riiing! Riiing!_

"Hello? Kinomoto speaking," I answered as soon as I got the phone from my nightstand. The voice coming from the other side of the line gave me goose bumps.

"S_akura, it's Meiling. Long time no talk!" _she shrieked like usual, while I uselessly tried to protect myself under the sheets of my bed. "_I was thinking about you and decided to call you to see how you're doing!" _I tried to draw a smile on my face like I would always do, but an annoyed grimace came first. "_If I don't call you, you would never even try to pick up the phone to know what's going on with your brother or me!"_

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I lied, and heard Touya getting closer to the phone because his classic way of calling me echoed in the distance. _Monster. _"I've been so busy lately, studying hard at school and a doctor for a boyfriend who needs me around like he was the patient...!"

The last words were hard to pronounce, due to the high content... rather by the _complete _content of lies in the sentence.

"_Hey, you owe me a visit, right?" _She normally didn't hear anything but her own babble. "_I've bought beautiful new crockery and a dress that is to die for. And I also have something for you, but I can't tell you what is it because your brother is here, you got it?"_

"_Meiling!"_

"_Hey, what's the matter? Do you think your little sister is still a child? For God's sake, Touya, she and I are almost the same age! And you have no qualms about having sex!"_

I moved the handset away while my sister-in-law and my brother discussed bedroom matters.

"H- hello? Meiling?"

"_Monster, don't pay attention to this lunatic. If you use one of those bullshit things I'll bring you back home personally and make you learn how to behave!"_

His wife was the biggest sex addict ever and I was the one who had to behave?

"There's no need." I held the anger running up my face, painting my cheeks red, and turning my blood into whisky. Burning. "If it makes you feel better, Eriol hasn't put a finger on me. And I don't plan to let the situation change. You know very well why."

Silence from the other line.

Silence and memories.

"_You know I'm here for you, Sakura. You're not alone."_

"I know."

"_You don't have to punish yourself for that. It was a long time ago."_

"I know..."

"_Besides being a monster, now you're a robot too?_

I puffed my cheeks after that comment.

"TOUYAAAA!"

I heard a contagious chuckle.

Although it was strange, my brother had changed a lot since he married Meiling and started to work on his small business in China. Even though my father disagreed, because the family business -and I mean the multinational company he ran, with many branches throughout Japan– needed his help, change and risk were the keys of his actual happiness.

_Change and risk._

"Touya, I have to go. I'll visit you on my vacation, I promise." And I wasn't lying. A strange spark kindled in my chest unwittingly.

"_Take care, please. Just take care."_

Then I hung up the phone and jumped to my dresser to find something to wear. But, why? What would I get with putting a potential rope around my neck? I mean, really, was it necessary?

_A little happiness._

Just a little!

_It's better than nothing, and you know it._

"God, what am I doing with my life?"

Desperate, I could feel the walls closing in on me, watching me, ready to jump when I turned my back. The tables, chairs, cupboards, dishes, faucets, curtains, tiles, ceiling, lamps, windows... closed.

At that time I said to myself that it couldn't continue that way. That if I stayed there enclosed, even for one more minute, I would die in the bowels of my own house.

And I understood what it meant. What every invisible being pointed at me, screamed at me. What I had been trying to deny since that guy gave me a strange key in the form of a flyer to a new and tenebrous world. What I had been running away from for hours...

_A change._

And it was why I was right there, in the theater: a place full of ex-acquaintances, with an outlandish brunette's sweet voice and a man that would go straight to my trunk of secrets.

I filled my lungs with air and started to release it slowly, as surreptitiously as I could, without dropping an iota of my rehearsed smile.

But it didn't seem enough to face the golden eyes that suddenly looked at me with voracity.

**Scene IV**

**-Syaoran-**

The intruder's eyes were dark and deep, vigilant. With the tousled hair, the fast breathing and hands firmly holding the script, she watched me like she wanted to pierce me with her glare, from the face to the neck.

To relieve the tension, I took a cigarette from my pocket and lit it. Instantly, my shoulders were loosened and I could speak again.

"And you say that... you haven't studied Drama?"

Sakura shook her head without changing her expression.

"Never?" I insisted.

"No."

I took the longest drag of a cigarette ever.

"Good. Good..."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down and find an answer to what just happened. An answer to the huge query in front of me, disguised in the shape of a woman.

Like a slideshow going at infinite speed inside my head, I saw Sakura follow me to the little room I used as my office. I sat at the desk, waiting, analyzing her gestures, her calm, straight and steady pose.

I couldn't explain to myself what a girl like her would do there. Anyone could see that she was normal enough to pursue a worthy life and job, like the rest of humanity.

However, she stood in front of me, under a ceiling falling to pieces, surrounded by menaces of people, pretending to join a group of actors and maybe even die tragically someday of starvation or sadness like all good artists...

The questions in my head hung around as I searched for something useful inside the drawer on the right of my desk, something to give me the big answer I was looking for.

I rummaged blindly around the dark corners of the drawer holding old papers, pencils; even a tiny bottle that I supposed was my rum. And just below a crushed and empty pack of cigarettes I found the small book, its sheets were wasted and rotten from being used over time.

I looked at it with hidden affection, and opened its heart at random, hoping to find an adequate scene. Of course, my adored copy of _Hamlet _didn't disappoint me, and I came across the perfect scene.

Without a word, I gave the old book to Sakura and she attentively read the paragraph that my finger pointed out. I thought I saw her hesitate, but the moment was so brief I wasn't sure about it, because when I realized it, her eyes were filled with literary ambrosia.

What happened next, I could barely remember.

_And I, of ladies most deject and wretched...!_

As soon as Ophelia appeared in front of me, bemoaning the madness of her lover, the shiver was so revealing that I forgot everything else. And it was because, suddenly, the standard of the naïve and shy girl vanished in a dense cloud of smoke, revealing the wizard who appears triumphant when no one expects it, holding the disappeared object in his hand.

In this case, my disappeared fistful of hope.

_That suck'd the honey of his music vows; now see that noble and most sovereign reason, like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh..._

Fortunately, I had learned long ago to fake a non-existent composure, so that she exhibited all her tricks to try to catch my interest. But Sakura never knew, at that point, her eyes and her smile had stopped being a wizard and had turned into the worst of the witches: an evanescent illusion, a beautiful deception of a thousand faces, promising me glory and eternal youth, in spite of bringing my own death.

Exactly what I was looking for.

_... that unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth, blasted with ecstasy...:_

Ecstatic? I confess. Since my friend Fye had left the theater, no other performance had dazzled me so much. Normally, I saw the actors pose, speak, and gesticulate like puppets but I told myself that perhaps someday they would find the spark and then everything would change.

Until now and after many years, my feet had been buried in the mud, but the security she reflected in every word rotted my roots until I finally was free, and at times I even felt light inside my own body, while two very green eyes slowly tied wire around my neck.

_O, woe is me, to have seen what I have seen, see what I see!_

My decision was confirmed when I realized she had already been silent for a while, and I still hadn't managed to wake up completely.

When I struggled to maintain my weight firmly over my legs, I had to light another cigarette and smoke half of it in a single breath.

"Well..." Sakura's hands were dancing compulsively over her lap, tangling and untangling her fingers, doing and undoing knots. "So... how was I?"

My view shifted from her hands to her face, and I found a strange pantomime of shyness and humility.

But something gave her away. I noticed a vertigo swirl forming in her stomach; something close to its boiling point in her brain, the earthquake after the upright posture. Something noticeable only in the dark backgrounds of her changing iris, and something that only a very experienced person could see.

I put out my cigarette in the ash tray on my right without taking my eyes off her. And I knew that, even without the drumming of my heart preventing me from hearing anything, her heartbeats would have been unnoticeable to me, or her breathing, desperately commanding her body to calm down.

"If you're interested, you should come back tomorrow," I ordered apathetically, without moving an inch. "We'll be here at 5pm."

I wanted to see her face decompose at least momentarily, but Sakura denied me that privilege. Instead of opening a rift in her mask, she nodded slightly and bowed her head down.

"I'll come," she said, and turned to leave.

She was already passing through the threshold when I grabbed her wrist. Her whole body stopped dead. Her eyes met mine, asking a million questions silently, and I was forced to give her an answer.

"You're a compulsive liar, right?"

Her eyes popped wide open before the falsities in her mouth. Powerless, she remained silent.

Satisfied, I gave her a smile and made her turn around completely. I lifted her hand and kissed it as I bowed reverently.

"Welcome to the theater, Angel."

* * *

**Authors' notes: **Hello, hello, hello everyone! Hope you are enjoying this, since we are having a great time writing it. Oh, by the way, it's Charlotte! Honestly, many times –if not always– I don't know what to say here, but Chocolate bar told me that it was time for me to say something to you guys so here I am!

As you can see, many things are going on with our beloved characters. There are still many things that await Sakura and Syaoran, but we now have a clearer perspective of how everything is going to unfold, like the madness and delirium they both share without knowing it. It's amusing to twist them so much and try to keep them in character at the same time. That's why Choco and I hope to have you back for the next chapter, since S+S moments are coming that no one is going to want to miss –ok, that sounded like a soap opera advertisement, lol–.

Thank you to everyone who read this, and we want to encourage you to keep doing it. Send long, juicy reviews and criticism is welcomed and accepted.

A huge hug to everyone!

**Translators' notes:**

**Estela.A: **hi! I've been reading your reviews and I'm soo glad you are enjoying the fic! Your comments are really awesome, thank you! By the way, I wanted to answer a review asking to translate **Rito de Iniciación. **I would looove to do it, and I know Choco would say YES right away and start jumping around in happiness, but we're actually quite busy with this fic but there could be a possibility later. Yeah, we are an awesome trio (; thanks again, see you soon!


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